


popcorn mayhem

by lizamarri



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Movie Theatre AU, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, and he's jace herondale btw, anyway, because why not, clace, enjoy 1k+ of fluff, i don't know why i'm writing mindless fluff i SHOULD be finishing my slow burn but NO, i mean he's always professing his love like a goddamn poet so i made him a literature student, i might continue this??? who knows, jace is a poetry boy, lol these two idiots are smth else, meet cute, the tags only let me use wayland and fray as their surnames ??? idk why, this is the litteral def of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:34:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24635413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizamarri/pseuds/lizamarri
Summary: “I work in a movie theatre and I need to clean up but you’re still here ugly crying.”Jace Herondale isn't one for feelings, but when he sees a cute little redhead absoloutely bawling her eyes out in the back row of the movie theatre he's supposed to be cleaning up, he can't help but step in.
Relationships: Clary Fray & Jace Wayland, Clary Fray/Jace Wayland
Comments: 8
Kudos: 41





	popcorn mayhem

**Author's Note:**

> lol this is fluff galore enjoy

Like a lot of things that happen to him, he didn't get the job at the movie theatre on purpose. 

At first, it had been his solace- not the job, the movie theatre. He could spend hours there, buy one ticket, watch the movie, and then hide out in the bathrooms until another movie he liked started so he could sneak back in. $10 dollars for a whole  _ day _ away from his father. 

But then, he grew up. He left high school and his father in the dust, and high-tailed it off to college. His father didn’t like that he wanted to study something as unmanly as literature, so of course he picked literature. 

But that might have been the wrong move, as his father basically abandoned him, and he was left to pay for college on his own. So, hence, the job at the movie theatre.

It isn’t all that bad, actually. He just has to sweep up and throw out trash that people leave behind (seriously, guys, why do  _ all  _ of you knock the popcorn bins over) and make sure everyone leaves after the movie finishes. 

He never thought the second part of his job would actually be a problem.

Jace walks into theatre twelve, just in time to see a couple stride out, both seem to be distraught, the blonde one clutching onto her (probably) girlfriend and weeping. “Why did they all die?” Jace hears her whimper on his way in. 

“I don’t know,” says her partner, looking equally miserable. 

Jace rolls his eyes, pushing his cart past them and parking it right beside the first row. Looking over the theatre, he quickly confirms there’s no one there. 

Taking out the dustpan and broom, Jace makes quick work of the trash in the first row, scuffing his toe at a bit of stamped-in popcorn stuck in the rug until it pulls free. He makes his way methodically up the rows, grabbing soda cups and popcorn bags and dropping them into the little trash bucket on his cart. 

When he gets to the second-to-top row, a quiet sniffle and a squeak disrupts his work. 

Jace’s head pops up, ears focusing on the sound. He rakes his eyes over the row, squinting in the dim light of the theatre. He’s about to give up and blame it on the cheap seats until he hears another sniffle, this one closer to a whimper. 

Jace sets down his broom, balancing it and the dustpan on one of the chairs. He bites his lip, squinting at the direction of the sound. He steps up to the top level, peering behind the seats, and the sight waiting shocks him. 

It’s a girl. A young woman, to be exact. She’s half kneeling, half sitting on the floor, hands over her face, chest shaking with muffled sobs. Loose red curls bounce are spilled over her shoulders, shaking gently as she cries.

Jace’s mouth falls open. “Oh my god, are you ok?”

The girl looks up, hands falling from her face. Her cheeks are stained with streaks of makeup, and her eyes are puffy and red. “Oh. Oh, are the credits over?” Her voice is shaky and faint, stumbling over the words. 

“Um, yeah,” Jace says, walking over hesitantly. “Are you sure you’re ok?”

The girl’s tears stop flowing, and she wipes her eyes hastily. “Oh god, I probably look like an idiot.”

“You don’t,” Jace reassures, but he’s distracted. Her eyes are a glorious hazel, like Alec’s, but brighter, tinged with a green ring around the gold. They’re fascinating, despite the way her eyes are red.

“I’m sorry, I’m probably holding you up,” the redhead says, turning back to her seat and grabbing a grey jacket, tying it around her waist. She has a certain style to her, like a strange combination of boho and punk. Grey skinny jeans and a green v-neck, with a wide black belt and a vast array of silver rings on her fingers. Izzy would like it. It’s very unique and clean.

“Oh my god, you work here! I’m so sorry, you probably need to clean, and I’m sitting here crying on the floor like an  _ idiot-” _

“Hey, it’s ok,” Jace says, an easy smile blooming on his face. “Besides, this job is kind of shit and it gets a little better if I get to spend my time talking to a pretty girl instead of sweeping up popcorn.”

She smiles nervously, head cocking to one side. “I don’t think I look too pretty considering this.” She gestures to the makeup stains on her cheeks.

Jace shrugs. “Beautiful, then. Take your pick.”

She blushes, gently, biting her lip. “I’m, um, I’m Clary.”

“Jace,” he responds, with another smile. 

Her eyebrows wrinkle, and it’s so cute he physically tremors. “I’ve never heard that name before, is it short for Jason or something?”

Jace shakes his head, glancing at the ground with a little chuckle. “My real name is Jonathan, Jonathan Christopher, but I hate it, so I took the initials and made my own name.”

Her eyebrows unscrunch, then rescrunch. He might faint. “So what do people call you, Jace Christopher? Or just Jace?”

“Jace Herondale,” he laughs. “Christopher is a middle name.”

“Oh.”

“It’s weird, I know.”

Clary looks up, a playful smile on her face. “You’re really the king of strange names, huh. Herondale? Sounds like you came straight out of a fantasy novel.”

“What can I say, I’m interesting.”

Her smile widens, and Jace realizes, she’s not crying anymore. “If you’re so interesting, tell me about it.”

He blinks, taken aback. “Huh?”

“Tell me about it. Over coffee.”

Jace grins. “Is this a date?”

Clary grins right back. “You bet your ass it’s a date.”

He can’t help it, he laughs, throwing his head back. “You’re something else. Has anyone ever told you that your hair matches your personality?”

She snorts. “Yeah, like I haven’t heard that one before.” Pulling out a pen from her pocket, she motions to him. “Here, give me your arm.”

“What?”

“Your arm.” She uncaps the pen. “If I write it down on paper I’m sure you’ll lose it.”

Jace huffs playfully, stretching out his arm. “I wouldn’t lose it.”

Clary tilts her head, eyebrows raised. 

Jace sighs. “Ok, maybe I might lose it.”

Clary finishes writing down her number, and caps the pen before storing it in her pocket. 

“Two questions,” Jace asks. “Why didn’t you just put it in my phone, and two, why do you have a pen in your pocket?”

Clary shrugs. “It’s more romantic that way. And I have a pen ‘cause I’m an art major.”

Jace perks up. “An art major? Where?”

“Brooklyn Academy of Art,” She proclaims happily. “And you? I’m assuming you're in college, because why else would you be working this shitty job?”

Jace laughs. “You’re dead on. Hunter College, I’m studying literature.”

“Oooh,” Clary jokes. “So you’re one of those poetry boys?”

“I guess- wait, what the hell is a poetry boy?”

Clary giggles. “You know, ones who write poetry in notebooks and read sad novels and don't dress emo but act it.”

“Please don’t make me revisit high school.”

She chuckles, hands tapping out a rhythm on her leg. The silence lasts for a little too long, and she smiles sweetly. “Well, it was very nice to meet you, Mr. Oh-So-Mysterious Jace Herondale, but I really have to run.”

“Me too,” he admits. “The popcorn isn’t just going to sweep itself up.”

She grins at that, walking backwards to the stairs on the other side of the theater. “Text me!” she cries, right before she’s behind the little hallway leading to the door. 

“I will!” he yells back, and the last he sees of her is a swish of red hair as she disappears behind the corner. 

Well. Maybe this shitty job  _ is _ good for something.

The euphoria fades, and Jace sighs, turning back to his broom and resigning to finish the job. He was right before, the popcorn really  _ isn’t  _ going to sweep itself.

**Author's Note:**

> might continue? might not? tell me what you guys think, i feel like this could go somewhere but idk. you?
> 
> come yell at me on tumblr @all-this-panic-still-no-disco and come to instagram for a trash can of my faves @liza_marri


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